


Think as Hard as Ever I Can of Being a Princess

by screaminginternally



Series: 'I'm in love with my princess. And I'm enquiring if she loves me too' [3]
Category: The Princess Diaries - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, More tags will be added later, This one is so hard because I honestly don't love book 2, also somehow a bunch happens but its also a bunch of nothing??, book-movie fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screaminginternally/pseuds/screaminginternally
Summary: So, Mia's in her second or third week of being a princess and?? Her mother decides its time to get pregnant by Mia's Algebra teacher. Grandmere is making her do A Public Appearence. Lilly is being Lilly.Halloween sure is the scariest time of the year.
Relationships: Helen Thermopalis/Frank Gianini, Mia Thermopalis & Nicholas Devereaux
Series: 'I'm in love with my princess. And I'm enquiring if she loves me too' [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1373011
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. When things are horrible – just horrible

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this one has been really hard for me to write, for a couple reasons - Book 2 isn't my favourite, and also because it's got a lot of plotlines I don't care for, so I have to decide if I'm going to write them or alter them, and, well. I've just not been in a good headspace for writing for the last long while, but here I am.
> 
> I think I can guarantee this one won't come out as quickly as some others in this series and I don't know how long it'll be, but I did just finish a WIP I've been doing since 2017, so hopefully this won't take (checks calendar) three years to find an ending.

**FtLouie:** Hey, so I have a question I could use your opinion on.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Go for it.

**FtLouie:** Given my day-to-day situation of being a giant loser at school and also a newly-outed princess, just how badly do you think my personal stock at school would drop if my classmates were to find out that my mother is having a baby with my Algebra teacher?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Your mother’s pregnant?

**FtLouie:** I just said that.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I can’t imagine anyone at your school cares that much about your business. When it’s in the tabloids, maybe they’ll care for two minutes, but if the teenagers at your school are anything like the teenagers at mine, that’s what I’d expect.

**FtLouie:** Nick, what? Of COURSE they’re going to care!! I’m a freak!! A princess with a bodyguard following me everywhere and whose mother is dating our Algebra teacher!!! I’m a weirdo!!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Then they’ll chalk it up to being one more Weird Freak thing about you. Besides, it’s your private business, and I doubt any of your classmates care that much. Sure, the ones that already don’t like you will probably say something, but it’s not like it’d be different from anything else rude they might say about your mother and Mr Gianini.

**FtLouie: **Why does that somehow make me feel better AND worse???

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **It’s a gift I have.

;;

So, how does Mia feel about the fact she’s going to have a new baby sibling? Well –

She can’t say she loves it.

Mostly because she’s dealing with enough stuff – princess-ness, everything on the periphery of the princess things like paparazzi stalking her, passing her Algebra class, passing all her other classes – and now she’s going to have to deal with her Algebra teacher probably being even more in her life. Mr Gianini seemed to be the kind of guy who stuck around when he got a woman pregnant.

Mia’s mostly just trying to remain calm and chill about this – she’s failing, but she is.

Why is her mother going through this _again_? Hadn’t she learned her lesson with _Mia_? She’d already gotten pregnant with Mia when she was twenty-one, so she’d had to graduate college and enter into her career as an adult with a baby in tow. Her bastard royalty-related baby who, a decade and a half later, now will one day be Crown Princess of a whole damn country.

Wasn’t raising one child on her lonesome enough of a life? Did Helen really want to do that _again_? Although, to be fair, Mr Gianini probably wasn’t the heir to a whole country, nor likely to drag their child into international affairs as a political and public figure.

(Philipe Renaldo had caused a lot of _opinions_ in his daughter about her future, is the point.)

But also the new baby thing. Did her mother even _remember_ what being pregnant was like? Or how to have a healthy pregnancy? Mia knew that her mother’s lifestyle was definitely different from what it was fifteen years ago – Mia was gonna need some information. How do you have a healthy pregnancy?

;;

Her English class had been assigned a journal by her teacher. To be read by her teacher. Apparently, Mia was supposed to record her deepest thoughts and emotions in the thing, and then turn it over to her teacher.

Uhh, Mia already _has_ a journal, and she doesn’t even want to re-read what _she’s_ put in the thing.

Well, Mrs Spears, hopefully you’re in the mood for some nonsense lies edited into the shape of a diary, because that’s what you’re getting.

**Name: **Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopalis Renaldo. Mia, for friends and loved ones.

**Age:** 14

**School Yr:** Freshman

**Description: **Five foot nine, brown hair dyed blonde, grey eyes.

**Parents:**

** Mother **Helen Thermopalis

** Occupation **Painter

** Father **Artur Christophe Philipe Gerard Grimaldi Renaldo, called Philipe by family and friends.

** Occupation **Crown Prince of Genovia

**Marital Status: **Unmarried, either to each other or others. I was the result of a college fling, and if Dad asked Mum to marry him, she said no. Probably a good thing, because 85% of all the conversations they have are arguments. And they only see each other maybe five times a year (before now, that is. Dad is staying in New York City, presently).

**Pets: **One fat, Fat Louie. Orange and white, Louie is eight years old, and has been on a diet for approximately six of those years. Not that it ever works. One horse, Emily, although she stays in Genovia. Gray with white spots, Emily really belongs to my friend Nick, who lives in Genovia, and stays at his home, but Nick calls her mine.

**Friends: **My best friends are Lilly Moscovitz and Nick Devereaux. Lilly has been my best friend since kindergarten, and she’s very, very smart and has her own public access show, _Lilly Tells It Like It Is_, and she’s always thinking up fun things for us to do on the show, like film people we think are undercover cops interacting with actual cops in Central Park. Nick has been my friend since first grade, but he lives in Genovia full-time, because his uncle is Genovia’s Minister for Agriculture. He’s also very smart, but not in the same way as Lilly. Lilly’s very interested in politics and social justice, Nick is an avid reader, even of things books that are really, really old. Like Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters and the ‘Gothic genre’, which I don’t fully get or like, but Nick talks about them like he’s doing a college degree on the genre.

**Address: **All my life, I’ve lived in New York City with my mother, in our loft in Greenwich Village. During my summers, I stayed in my paternal grandmother’s chateau in France. For a long time, I was lead to believe that my father was simply a politician in Genovia, as a member of parliament or something.

When I was twelve, Nick realised I had no idea of the truth, and showed me the book of Genovia’s royal family, proving that my family was royalty, and my father the reigning monarch. It was explained to me by Nick that I was a member of the royal family, but that I had no duties or obligations; until this last summer, when the resulting sterility from my father’s chemotherapy rendered me the only living child he had.

**My Family History: **The ancestry of my family on my father’s side can be traced back to AD 568.

That is the year when the Visigoth warlord Alboin killed the King of Italy and a lot of other people (hence **war**lord), and made himself king of the conquered lands. After declaring himself king, Alboin married the daughter of one of the king’s old generals, Rosagunde.

But Rosagunde wasn’t exactly fond of the guy who invaded her home and killed her dad, as well as forcing her to drink wine out of her dead dad’s skull, so she got him back on their wedding night by strangling him with her long braids while he slept. With Alboin dead, the dead King of Italy’s son took over. He was so grateful to Rosagunde that he made her princess of the area that now is the country of Genovia. According to the only existing records of that time, Rosagunde was a kind and thoughtful ruler.

She’s my paternal great-grandmother by about sixty-ish generations.

On my mother’s side of the family, the Thermopalises were goat herders on the island of Crete until the year 1904,when Dionysus Thermopalis, my maternal great-grandfather, couldn’t take it anymore, and left the rest of his family to run to America. He eventually settled in Versailles, Indiana (pronounced Ver-sales, instead of the traditional way), where Dionysus opened an appliance and hardware store. His offspring have been running it ever since. My mother says her upbringing would have been much less oppressive, not to mention liberal, back in Crete with her cousins.

;;

So, Mia is apparently incapable to keep secrets anymore. The royalty thing broke her.

Or, at least she’s unable to keep her secrets away from other people’s suspicions. Mia really wished Lilly wouldn’t read over her shoulder when she was on the computer. She was just looking up pregnancy facts, okay? It could’ve been for anything at all! Lilly, you really didn’t need to be so loud.

Honestly, looking up pregnancy facts isn’t even that weird, but when people are looking at you as your friend demands to know your business, all Mia wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Still, the suggested daily diet for pregnant women was . . . eye-opening, even though Mia knew without a doubt that her mother would be as interested in following it as Mia was at the prospect of eating meat – she wasn’t.

;;

Okay, apparently hoping for a few days of peace and quiet to digest the news that Mia could be expecting a new baby sibling in about eight months was too much, because Grandmere had cancelled her trip out of New York. And Princess Lessons were back on for the week.

UGH.

Why does Mia even NEED Princess Lessons? Grandmere isn’t teaching her Genovia’s history, or about its international relations with its neighbours, or even the policies involving immigrants or the environment. Grandmere was just thumping etiquette lessons into her head, which was something she’d done every summer Mia was with her at her chateau, Miragnac ever since Mia was about five. She’s done! There’s nothing left to teach her, unless Grandmere wanted to ensure Mia was flawless at each and every dance that could **probably** be at a ball. In every country in Europe. And Africa.

Clarisse once made Mia spend four hours on a random Monday in August drilling Mia on how to get every drop of soup in a dinner bowl without getting any on herself – ‘Always, ALWAYS tilt the dish AWAY from you, Amelia!’

Four. Hours. When Mia was _seven_.

Mia can’t stand her grandmother for maybe 99 reasons, and the etiquette thing was sixteen of them.

Whatever. Baden-Baden was having a baggage strike or something, and Grandmere refused to go anywhere she may have to deal with her own luggage in any way (all twenty bags of it), so Mia had to call her back immediately. Because Grandmere had a ‘surprise’ for her.

Grandmere’s surprises were not, historically, heartwarming. Some twenty-five years ago, she’d ‘surprised’ Mia father by selling his favourite horse – who’d broken its leg, and Philipe had been crying for a full recovery – and exchanging it for a new one that was even bigger. Clarisse still insisted that a new, giant horse for a distressed ten year old was a kind thing.

Some people really shouldn’t be parents, ya know?

;;

And some people really shouldn’t be grandparents, either.

Mia wasn’t sure if Grandmere was aware, but ‘surprises’ are often supposed to be _good_ things. Like, surprise! A new bike! Or, surprise! A here’s a new TV to replace the black-and-white one in your bedroom, Just Because You Earned It Kiddo! Or something of THAT nature.

A TV interview with some news presenter – not two weeks after Mia made it CLEAR to her grandmother that she Does Not Want publicity about her life – is not a surprise. Well, technically, yeah it is, but it’s certainly not a GOOD surprise. It’s more along of the lines of surprise! You have three exams tomorrow that your teachers never mentioned, and also your mortal enemy at this school will be spending the entire time sitting in the seat directly in front of you, deliberately distracting you! Won’t that be _fun?_

Ugh.

What the hell does Mia even have to say? Well, sure, if you’re the right person and Mia’s in the right mood, it’s more difficult to make her shut up; but like, what does she have to say that will interest the entirety of America? She’s a 14 year old vegetarian living in New York City with her single-parent artist antiestablishment mother, a middling student with only a handful of friends and no boyfriend.

This is not a life that is the majority of America.

Sure, she’s a princess, but it’s not as if she’s _done_ anything yet. It was two weeks ago – she’s been at school! The MOST interesting thing that’s happened is Mia rejecting a boy to go to a school dance, and an argument with her friend. Who cares about that?

;;

Well, Grandmere is of the opinion EVERYONE must care, because apparently she just about started a bidding war amongst reporters for the ‘Once In A Million’ chance to interview Mia. Which. Makes some sense, maybe? This is the first interview Mia will ever do, so she gets it. Still, that IN NO WAY means Mia WANTS to be interviewed. She didn’t even want to GO HOME from her princess lessons today, given that her mother was going to tell her Algebra teacher about his impending fatherhood.

Still, he took it well. Mr G, she means. Took the news well. SO WELL, in fact, that Mia is now apparently a bridesmaid for the wedding that her mum and her new soon-to-be-stepfather are going to be having at City Hall at some point in the near future.

Helen’s thinking maybe Halloween, because marriage is apparently as scary as Michael Myers was to Laurie Strode. Okay? Mia is . . . okay with this?

Well, in the interest of honesty, Mia’s too tired to care. She’s concerned about how her mother will react when the whole ‘pregnancy’ bit actually kicks in, what with food cravings and morning sickness and whatnot, but her mother marrying her Algebra teacher? Honestly, if not for the whole barely-passing-the-class bit, Mia likes Mr G. At least, she likes him a bunch more than she likes some of the other teachers at her school, so . . . her mother can do worse? At least Mr G’s reaction is ‘Let’s get married’, and not ‘I’m going to parkour out of this building now and never speak to you again’.

;;

So, Mia is refusing to add to the news wheel of AEHS with her own little bomb – sorry, bomb**_s_**, plural, of her impending big-sisterhood or her upcoming interview with a woman who interviewed the First Lady – so the Big News at her school is that the It Couple, Josh Ritcher and Lana Weinberger, have got back together, after having been broken up for almost a full week. Honestly, this isn’t something Mia has ever cared about, but given that Josh’s locker is directly next to hers, this development just means that getting into her locker is, once again, only possible with forceful interference.

Today, for instance, Mia required Lilly’s assistance to separate the two from their liplock, Lilly obligingly stabbing Josh in the spine with the tip of her pencil.

Mia hasn’t even mentioned her News to Lilly, either. It just . . . it feels weirdly like you’re bragging, when you bring something like that up in a conversation, you know? If that makes sense?

The princess thing is honestly nothing but a big inconvenience to her life, and Mia honestly doesn’t know how to talk about it with her friends, unless they start talking about it first. It feels awkward. So Lilly doesn’t know about the interview. And you can forget her mother’s pregnancy. Mia’s barely coping with her OWN emotions on that subject, she refuses to have to deal with anyone else’s just yet.

Sometimes Mia’s certain that if she didn’t have Nick in her life to vent to, her head would explode from stress.

;;

So, fast forwarding through her week, and the boredom of school and how weird her science classmate Kenny has been acting, sitting and waiting for an interview is somehow one of the most nerve-wracking things Mia’s done recently.

For god’s sake, why would ANYONE tell her that the estimate viewership for this interview would be _twenty-two million???_ It’s like, oh, by the way, we know that you’re not particularly happy about being a princess and having your whole life and any plans you’ve ever made for yourself upheaved, and that you’re now shadowed everywhere by a bodyguard, and also paparazzi, and you’re fourteen, and barely passing several classes, and now with very little notice, you’re going to be interviewed by Beverly Walker, hard-hitting journalist who’s interviewed more famous and important people than some have in their lives, and this is your first interview, well, by the way, the interview – the first one you’ve ever done, you remember – will be watched by _TWENTY-TWO MILLION PEOPLE AT MINIMUM, NOT COUNTING RERUNS_. No pressure!

Mia might be hyperventilating. A bit.

But instead of being allowing to go out onto the balcony for some fresh air and a moment of peace, she has to sit in this chair, surrounded by people running around and calling for equipment she isn’t even sure matters, because she doesn’t Know Anything about the TV business; she has to sit still and not move very much, because there was a Whole Stylist who did her hair and makeup and if she messes Anything of it up, Grandmere will probably react by dragging Mia to Paolo’s tomorrow and just. Having him wax her entire head, or something.

The fact that Grandmere’s always upset at something about Mia honestly isn’t great for her nerves anyway. And Grandmere Really does not want Mia mucking up the ‘look’, given that Grandmere made the stylist do Mia’s makeup twice, because the first time made Mia look like a _poulet_. Which is a word that means either chicken or prostitute in French. But when Clarisse Renaldo says it, it always means prostitute.

Lilly’s Nana has never said the word ‘prostitute’ in her entire life. Not even in Yiddish. That’s a fact. Lilly got the grandma who loves her and gives her cookies whenever they come to visit, and supports Lilly’s dream/life goals, and Mia gets the grandma with tattooed eyeliner and a chain-smoking habit who says _Mia_ looks like a sex worker. How is this woman a Princess, dowager or otherwise, never mind a grandma?

;;

Instead of rehashing Mia’s interview, we’re just going to give a transcript of what was said, and Mia’s gonna freak out a bunch, because she can’t decide if she did well or not.

**Beverly Walker (BW), voiceover:** Imagine, if you will, an ordinary teenage girl. Well, as ordinary as a teenage girl who lives in New York City’s Greenwich Village with her single mother, acclaimed painter Helen Thermopalis, can be. Mia’s life was filled with normal things most teenagers lives are full of – homework, friends and the occasional bad math grade . . . until, one day, it all changed.

**Cut to Penthouse Suite, Plaza Hotel. **

**BW:** Mia – may I call you Mia? Or would you prefer Your Highness, or Amelia?

**Mia Renaldo (MR):** Um, no. I prefer Mia.

**BW:** Mia. Tell us about that day. The day life as you know it changed completely.

**MR (deep breath):** Well, what happened was, my dad and I were having tea here at the Plaza, because it’s been something of our tradition whenever he’s in the city; and he set down is drink, and looked at me, all very grave, and he says ‘Mia, I want you to know the truth. I think you’re old enough now, and you know I can’t have any more children, so what I’m about to say will have a lot of impact on your future. It’s only fair I tell you, I am the Prince of Genovia’.

**BW:** Wow, so it was a very blunt confession, wasn’t it?

**MR (nervous laugh):** Yeah, it was a bit. I wasn’t very sure how to react. Honestly, I don’t remember what I felt at the time – I wasn’t happy or scared or angry, my brain was just like, ‘oh. Oh boy.’

**BW:** So what happened after that confession?

**MR:** Well . . . it sort of started to be a planning session on how my dad was going to uproot my life and move me to Genovia, straight from there, and, uh. I got a little . . . ticked-off.

**BW:** Ticked off how?

**MR:** Well . . I definitely didn’t have the most, uh, mature reaction to being told my whole life was going to be moved to another country, and I kinda . . uh, started yelling a little about how I didn’t want to move, or be a princess, and how it was really unfair of my dad to expect me to willingly pack up my life and move to a palace when he never even though mentioning that he was a prince could be important information for me. And then I got up from my chair and literally sprinted out of the building. And got on the subway and went home.

**BW:** Oh, goodness.

**MR (self-deprecating laugh):** Yeah, I know. Real princessy, right? Eventually, we all – my mum, dad and I – and we hashed out a plan that would actually work without being too upsetting to my life, and so. Yeah.

**BW:** So what kind of plan is that?

**MR:** Well, right now, I’m going to keep attending my high school, and every day after classes, I come here to the Plaza, where my grandmother –

**BW:** Dowager Princess Clarisse, your father’s mother.

**MR:** Yeah, she trains me in, you know, etiquette, formal dancing, politic-cal conversation - sorry, I couldn’t think of the right word - that sort of thing. The kind of stuff that means I hopefully – hopefully, fingers crossed! – won’t cause an international incident at some event.

**BW:** It certainly sounds like you have a full schedule every week.

**MR:** That’s an understatement, yeah.

**BW:** So you attend Albert Einstein High School here in Manhattan, don’t you?

**MR:** Yes, I do.

**BW:** Do you like it there? MR: Uh, (nervous laugh) I guess I like it as much as any teenager likes school, I guess?

**BW:** It’s my understanding you’ve pulled one of your class grades up quite a bit recently.

**MR:** Yeah, I. I got an F in Algebra, but one of my friends, Michael, he’s been tutoring me a bit to help me out, and. I mean I’m up to a D grade now, so clearly he’s doing something right.

Well. Basically, Mia managed Not to spill the beans about either her mother’s pregnancy, or her ridiculous crush on her ‘friend’ tutor – god, would it have sounded bad if she’d said that boy was her best friend’s older brother? Oh well. Too late.

Still, the whole mess ended with Beverly very nicely giving a speech to the camera: ‘She’s not a jock, or a cheerleader. What Amelia Mignonette Thermopalis Renaldo, is, ladies and gentlemen, defies the societal stereotypes that exist in today’s modern educational institutions. She’s a princess. An American princess. And yet she faces the same problems and pressures that teenagers all over this country face every day . . with a twist: one day, she’ll grow up to govern a nation.’

No mention that it’s the last damn career Mia’s ever wanted for herself, but still. A sweet sentiment, more or less.

But, GOD, was Mia ready to get out of there and hightail it to Lilly’s place. Sleepovers with friends were always a good time, right?

;;

Sleepovers with friends were . . . half a good time. The good time – actually having fun and getting to relax. The other half – uh, finding out all of her friends have kissed boys, and she hasn’t.

Mia feels sort of . . . defensive, about her never-been-kissed-ness? Like, she’s not a prude, or anything, she just . . is taking things slow. She’s got a lot going on, all right? She’s barely got the energy to struggle through homework, okay, she doesn’t have the energy to try and figure out the mind games of teenage boys.

Like this guy – or whoever it is – she’s been sent a couple of weird IMs from some guy calling himself JoCRox, and Mia’s been kind of ignoring the messages. Honestly, she does feel a little bad, because they’re all very sweet, but she just doesn’t have the energy for mind games, so she sent back a message last night to JoCRox, saying all that and uh. There’s been no reply. Oh well.

But yeah. Lilly and Boris Pelkowski of the G&T violin, Tina and the guy she’s been seeing since she took him to the Cultural Diversity Dance, Dave, Shameeka and her guy of the week, Ling Su and that one dude whatshisname who’s been around for a minute.

But because Mia had nothing to confess to the camera – because Lilly was filming the confessions for her show, to demonstrate how low the degenerate youth of America have sunk – Mia had to do a Dare. Like Truth or Dare, y’know?

Lilly dared her to drop an eggplant out of Lilly’s sixteenth story window. Which, honestly, how stupid. Someone could seriously get hurt, and Mia’s all for showing how low the degenerate Yoof of America have sunk, but smashing in someone’s skull sounds like a bad idea to do it. Still. Lilly was kinda pissy that Mia didn’t have anything to confess on-camera – well, Mia did, what with dumb-bad crushes and that little bomb of her impending sisterhood and the attached stepfather, but confessing that to a camera before her mother had told her actual dad sounded like a bad idea.

But to avoid being branded a coward as well as a priss or prude – whatever – Mia went into the kitchen, getting past the Drs Moscovitz in the living room, ignoring stacks of medical journals in favour of casual magazines. And she almost made it without comment, but then Lilly’s dad called, “Hello Mia. How are you doing?”

“Um,” She said, because OH GOD NERVOUS was suddenly all over her brain. “Fine.”

“And how is your mother?” asked Lilly’s mother.

“She’s good.” Only half a lie.

“Is she still seeing your Algebra teacher in a social capacity?”

“Um, yes, Dr Moscovitz.” More social than you’d guess.

“And are you still amenable to the relationship?” Lilly’s father wanted to know.

“Uh. I guess,” Mia shrugged. Does ‘It’s is happening, also he knocked her up and they’re getting married so there’s also no point getting mad’ count as being amenable?

“Well, tell her hello from me,” Lilly’s mother said. “We can’t wait until her next show. It’s at the Mary Boone Gallery, right?”

“Yeah.” The Moscovitzes were big fans of her mother. One of her best paintings was hanging in their dining room. But, finally, they both went back to their magazines, and Mia snagged an apple from the fridge, to camouflage her theft of the eggplant.

Really, it was a pretty big eggplant, and Mia held the thing to her belly as she went back to the room, and all she could think of was that – in a few months – her mother would probably be the size of Mia with the eggplant. It wasn’t a very comforting thought, because Mia really couldn’t imagine her mother dressing any more conservatively pregnant than she did not-pregnant.

Lilly narrated gravely into the microphone about how Mia Thermopalis was about to strike a blow for good girls everywhere, and Shameeka filmed, Mia opened the window, sticking her head out to make sure there were no passers-by who could get hurt – a residential street at almost eleven at night, even on a Saturday, come on – Mia stuck her arm out the window, looked directly at the camera, and then . . .

“Bombs away,” she said, like in the movies.

It was kind of cool seeing this big, ball-sized eggplant tumbling over and over in the air as it fell. There were enough street lamps to seeing clearly the whole way down. Down, down went the eggplant, past the windows of the psychoanalysts and the psychologists and investment bankers – the only people who could afford to live in the Moscovitzes building – and then . .

SPLAT!

The eggplant hit the sidewalk.

Only not quite. It _exploded_ on the sidewalk, sending bits of vegetable everything – mostly over an M1 city bus that was driving by, but also somewhat over the fancy Jaguar car that had been idling nearby. Mia leaned out the window, admiring the splatter pattern the pulp had made against the street and sidewalk, the drivers door of the Jaguar opened up and a man got out from behind the wheel, just as the Moscovitzes building’s doorman stepped out from beneath the awning over the front doors and looked up –

And then Mia was wrenched backwards onto the floor by an arm around her waist.

“Get down!” Michael hissed at everyone else. Lilly, Shameeka, Ling Su and Tina all ducked away from the window. Mia was still on the floor. Well. Michael was on the floor. He had Mia yanked back against his chest. Until he shoved her off him, anyway. Mia wanted to pout, once she stopped being surprised – she didn’t even get to enjoy that!

Where had Michael even come from? Mia’d made sure to ask if he was home before Lilly even instigated Truth or Dare, because the last time Mia’d accepted a Dare from Lilly, Lilly had made Mia streak naked in the hallway. Not the hallway inside the apartment. The hallway _outside_ it. But Lilly had said Michael was at Columbia University, attending some lecture on robotics or something and wouldn’t be home for hours.

“Are you guys stupid, or what?” Michael wanted to know. He sounded pretty mad. “Don’t you know, besides the fact that it’s a good way to kill someone, it’s also against the law to drop things out the window in New York City?”

“Michael,” Lilly was disgusted, “grow up. It was just a common garden vegetable.”

“I’m serious.” Michael had not calmed down. “If anyone saw Mia do that, she could be arrested.”

“No she couldn’t,” Lilly said, “She’s a minor.”

“She could still go to juvenile court. You better not be about to air that footage on your show.”

Lilly stuck out her chin stubbornly and said, “I most certainly am. It’s to make a point.”

“About _what_? Lilly, everybody knows who Mia is. If you air that without editing Mia’s face, it will be all over the news that the Princess of Genovia was caught on camera dropping projectiles out of the window of her friend’s high-rise apartment. Get a freaking clue, will you?”

Lilly rolled her eyes, but Tina ended up agreeing with Michael, also saying that Mia didn’t need any more publicity than she already had, which. Mia had to actually try to not laugh at that. They had no idea about Mia’s situation around _publicity_. Mia still hadn’t told them about the Beverly Walker interview.

Lilly got up and stomped towards the window, starting to lean out – presumably to check whether the doorman and the guy with the Jaguar were still there – but Michael yanked her back.

“Rule number one,” he said, “If you’re going to insist on dropping something out any window, never, ever, check if anybody is standing down there looking up. They will see you look out and figure out what apartment you are in, and then you’ll get blamed for dropping whatever it was, because literally nobody but the guilty party would be looking out a window in that situation.”

Shameeka pursed her lips, a smile and a quirked eyebrow following quickly. “Michael,” she said, “it almost sounds like you’ve done this before.”

Michael’s face didn’t really change, but Mia noticed the tips of his eyes turning a little red. “Let’s just say I used to have a very keen interest in experimenting with the earth’s gravitational pull.”

Code: I used to drop things out the window too, and there may be a record about me at a police station. Or at least, that was Mia’s translation. Why did Michael suddenly become just a little hotter?


	2. You don't know how it makes you forget.

So, the Beverly Walker interview did nothing for Mia’s social standing at AEHS, but it did make Lilly super mad at her, because apparently Beverly Walker is Lilly’s ‘all-time-role-model-and-hero’ – which is honestly kinda weird, because Lilly literally never talks about Beverly Walker except to deride her choice of clothing per interview?? – and Mia not mentioning her interview is apparently a horrible breach of Girl Code.

Mia didn’t know they followed Girl Code in their friendship, but okay. (But if their friendship follows Girl Code, why is Lilly allowed to ignore it whenever _Mia_ invokes it, huh?)

Still, getting home from Lilly’s wasn’t the catastrophe that Mia could’ve anticipated – honestly, Mia does have a habit of staying late at Lilly’s to avoid whatever mess was occurring at her own home (especially since the princess bomb dropped) – and even though Mr G (Frank. His name is Frank, on Saturday he’s going to be her stepfather) was there, they all had a bit of fun discussing wedding plans; Helen wanted a Halloween-theme wedding, maybe with the bride dressing up as King Kong, with Mia as the Empire State Building, and Helen spent a good twenty minutes trying to talk Frank into dressing as Fay Wray before being more or less shouted down-

But then Lilly got on the phone to be upset at Mia for not mentioning the interview. Mia honestly couldn’t really force herself to be too upset – Lilly had a habit of _searching_ for things to be mad about, rather than simply finding them.

Although it did kill Mia’s happy-buzz from a chill afternoon, she did actually catch one of the commercials for the interview (advertised as ‘America’s Royal, Princess Mia’. Barf) and she noticed that Grandmere had actually been right about being pedantic over the colour of the eye shadow Mia wore on camera. It did make her eyes pop.

Which was surprising, because she’d rarely been right about anything else in Mia’s life.

;;

**Five things Grandmere has been wrong about:**

  1. Mia’s Dad would settle down when he met the right woman. And it’d be by the time he was thirty-five.
  2. Fat Louie would suck out Mia’s breath as she slept and suffocate her.
  3. If Mia didn’t attend an all-girls school, Mia would contract a social disease.
  4. If Mia got her ears pierced, they would get infected and she’d die of blood poisoning.
  5. Mia’s figure would fill out by age fourteen.

;;

Despite Mia’s assertions that people would have no reason to care at all about what she could say in an interview – and Nick’s assertions that her classmates probably wouldn’t care – EVERYBODY at her school seemed ready to watch the interview. Everybody.

What, did the idea of witnessing Mia barely keep her composure on camera seem like a good time to her peers? Sure, she didn’t have a freaking meltdown OR spill the beans about _certain_ aspects of her life, but she’d still been a nervous wreck! She’s pretty sure her left eye was twitching like crazy for maybe 60% of the conversation!

Of course, Mia would literally rather have everyone only tell her about how they want to watch her stammer her way through an interview then do what Lana did, which is randomly walk up to Mia and Michael as they left Gifted and Talented and just randomly ask “Are you two dating?” in a snotty/obnoxious tone that made it clear that any answer other than ‘no’ would be subject to disbelief.

But Mia really couldn’t say anything, because she’s bad when put on the spot, and Michael’s face was going red, so _Lilly_ had to jump in – with a loud snort of “As if!”

And everyone got to laugh – except for Mia, because she refused to look at Michael or anyone else. Probably because the concept was so ridiculous, Michael just kind of ignored the whole scene. And Mia too, a bit.

As if.

;;

Grandmere was decidedly _not_ in the mood to give compliments about the interview after school, but she also held back from decrying Mia’s posture as disgraceful in the Princess Lesson that afternoon. Which is about as close to a compliment as the woman gets.

Still, there was the standard facial disgust at Mia’s posture, coupled with an evil eye when Mia stumbled over her French, but the lesson was . . almost a relief at what Mia’s day had been – as well as the stress of the interview that Mia was trying to recover from. Instead, Grandmere decided to give a lecture on how to plan a ball (why? In what universe would the Crown Princess of a country plan a ball? Isn’t that what party planners were for? Surely there existed a cottage market for party planners for royalty. Wouldn’t it be more productive for Mia to know the ins and outs of Parliament and how a bill becomes law or whatever?) because to have a ball, you had to be sure to know the personal lives of your guests – enough to keep nemeses away from each other in a seating chart, but also keep them in places that wouldn’t be insulting to their social/political positions. Decor was important, and making sure that everyone had enough notice of a theme of a ball was also important, so that they can all think through their clothing and keep from clashing with the wallpaper.

Seriously. Mia had to spend her afternoons learning this.

Excuse me, God, but one quick question: **Why?**

All this, and for the cherry on top, her grandmother’s miniature poodle, Rommel, somehow figured that Mia was so hideous to look at that he started cowering in fright at the very sight of her. Which is just. Amazing. Mia loves animals, she does – her dad is giving fifty bucks a day to Green Peace in Mia’s name, come on – but even St Francis of Assisi, the patron of animals, would have a hard time appreciating Rommel. Rommel’s got a nervous disorder (Mia’s willing to bet it’s just from having to be in such close proximity to Grandmere since he was a puppy, and this dog is about eight) that made all his fur fall out, so Clarisse dresses him in little sweaters and coats to keep him warm. Today’s was a mink jacket, dyed lavender to match the one on Grandmere’s shoulders. The DOG was wearing another dead animal’s skin.

And then Grandmere picked him up, because she figured that Rommel was moaning in anger or whatever, and Mia could tell that her diamond brooches were stabbing Rommel in the spine (because he also has zero body fat) and Rommel only shut up because Grandmere plopped him on her lap – which is the dogs favourite and least favourite place to be, because it was Grandmere’s lap.

Mia could feel a headache forming in the back of her eyes.

And then somehow the topic moved to weddings, and planning a royal wedding is somehow even worse than planning a ball, so Grandmere waxed poetic for a good twenty minutes about how, when she got married, she had a fever of a hundred and two and was borderline delirious, but powered through it anyway in favour of waving to the populace and waltzing until two in the morning.

Okay, Grandmere.

Which somehow jumped to the topic of royal consorts, and how whoever Mia marries will be her consort – the Prince Philip to her Queen Elizabeth, although hopefully with less ties to the royal family of Russia. Unless Mia tripped over someone of that line who somehow survived, in which case Grandmere would actually be impressed. But anyway, she had Mia dig out her journal to write it all down, so that in four years when Mia’s in college and takes up with someone completely inappropriate, Mia will know why Clarisse is so mad.

**Expectations of Any Royal Consort of the Princess of Genovia:**

  * **The consort will ask the princess’ permission before he leaves a room.**
  * **The consort will wait for the princess to finish speaking before speaking himself.**
  * **The consort will wait for the princess to lift her fork before lifting his own at mealtimes.**
  * **The consort will rise the moment the princess rises.**
  * **The consort will not engage in any sort of risk-taking behaviour – such as racing, either car or boat, mountain-climbing, sky-diving et cetera – until such a time as an heir has been provided.**
  * **The consort will give up his right, in the event of annulment or divorce, to custody of any children born during the marriage.**
  * **The consort will give up the citizenship of his native country in favour of citizenship of Genovia.**

Well. At least now Mia totally gets why her mother absolutely refused to marry her father. If he’d ever bothered to ask her, anyway.

;;

And then the interview aired.

Mia wasn’t sure what she was expecting – she’d said nothing incriminating about her school, so no surprise that no one from there rang, but she hadn’t been expecting a call from Grandmere during the commercial break.

“Well,” was her opening line. No ‘hello’. For a woman so concerned with etiquette, Grandmere never had any problem ignoring it herself. “That was just terrible, wasn’t it?”

Mia could only stammer out “I didn’t think it was so bad-“ before Grandmere cut her off.

“I cannot imagine what that woman was thinking – she failed to show a single picture of the palace! And it is at its most beautiful in the autumn!” And then, because Mia didn’t manage to cut her off, Grandmere rolled down that hill like a boulder after Indiana Jones. “The palm trees look magnificent. This is a travesty, I tell you. A travesty. Do you realise the promotional opportunities that have been wasted here? Absolutely wasted?” Of course, she also didn’t care for answers to rhetorical questions. “Tourism has been down in Genovia ever since we banned cruise ships from docking in the bay. But who needs day-trippers? With their sticky cameras and their awful Bermuda shorts. If that woman had only shown a few shots of the casinos. And the beaches! Why, we have the only naturally white sand along the Riviera. Are you aware of that, Amelia? Monaco has to import its sand. Wait-“

Not that Mia ever did anything else when on the phone with Grandmere. You just had to wait for her to stop talking and hang up.

“Oh, no, there we are. It’s back on, and they’re showing some simply lovely shots of the palace. Oh, and there’s the beach. And the bay, oh, and the olive groves. Lovely. Simply lovely. That woman might have a few redeeming qualities after all.” And _then_ she hung up.

Mia put the phone back and went into the bathroom, where her mother had spent the interview with her head slumped into the toiler – morning sickness apparently is an all-day thing – and Mr G was rubbing her back.

“So,” was Mia’s opening gambit. “At least I didn’t say anything too bad, right?”

Her mother gave her a thumbs-up, and Mr G smiled tiredly.

;;

**FtLouie: **So, please be honest but also beware my fragile ego and self esteem – I wasn’t too bad in that interview, was I?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Nah, you were fine. The perfect blend of utterly nervous-but-charming and also vague enough that there’s enough for reporters to continue to try to mine you for more interviews.

**FtLouie: **Crap.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **For a first interview, I think it was perfectly on point. Enough information that people know something about you, but vague enough that people will get the impression you’re not the swooning catastrophe you can be sometimes. You want to keep some aspects of yourself close to the vest, right?

**FtLouie: **I can bring out my ‘swooning catastrophe’ side at a later date, huh?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yeah. A fun surprise for people when they meet you on the street.

**FtLouie: **(middle finger emoji)

**FtLouie: **We also have one development on the Baby front.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I’m amazed you didn’t find a way to blurt that out during your interview.

**FtLouie:** I know, right? I’m getting so good at not serving random platters of word vomit that divulge people’s biggest secrets to perfect strangers. Personal Growth.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I’m so proud. What’s the development?

**FtLouie: **Marriage.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Please elaborate.

**FtLouie:** My mum. Mr Gianini. Are getting married on Halloween, at City Hall.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Congrats? Is this a congrats situation, or are you mad? I can’t tell over email.

**FtLouie: **It’s a congrats situation, I guess. Honestly, I have absolutely zero strong feelings about Mr G – he seems cool, and he isn’t ditching our lives completely to make Mum raise this kid solo, and if he didn’t make me stay behind school to study Algebra, I honestly wouldn’t have ever been upset when Mum started dating him.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yeah, but isn’t him tutoring you for his class – without expecting any financial recompense – a good sign he’d be a pretty solid dad? Like, if he’s willing to do that for just some student because he wants you to do well in his class, imagine how he’d be with an actual kid of his.

**FtLouie: **Good point.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Anything else happening in your life right now, or can I assume you’re only dealing with two messes in your life at once?

**FtLouie: **I threw an eggplant out a window and got yelled at by Lilly’s brother.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Isn’t dropping things out windows in NYC illegal? And DANGEROUS?

**FtLouie: **Yeah. It’s why we got yelled at.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Well, good. You should’ve gotten yelled at for that.

**FtLouie:** UMM?!! Anything else you want to add??

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Isn’t Michael the guy you’re crushing on who’s also tutoring you in your stepdad’s class?

**FtLouie: **First – ew, calling Mr G my stepdad, he doesn’t even live here yet; second – I cannot believe I ever admitted that to you.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **There’s maybe a 20% chance of me ever meeting Michael Moscovitz, and you needed to fess up to someone.

**FtLouie: **Ugh. Damn my blabbermouth.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **As long as you keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours.

;;

So the interview was a Monday night, and somehow Tuesday wasn’t . . . the worst? Some people muttered some stuff about the interview at her – according to Shameeka, people had been hoping Mia would mention people by name – because somehow getting name-dropped by a princess on national television would be a status symbol or something - and given that she mostly didn’t, the school had decided to go back to ignoring Mia. Her preferred state of being at AEHS.

G&T was . . a little weird, with Michael. Mostly because she’d – well, obviously she’d gushed a little about how he’d been helping her, and Michael didn’t seem to know what to do with that.

“It didn’t weird you out, did it?” was Mia’s query when the topic came up.

“Nah.” Michal had a sheepish look, and the tips of his ears were pink. “Nah, if anything, it was pretty flattering, hearing that you think I’m the main reason you’re passing Algebra.”

“You ARE the reason I’m passing Algebra.” Mia grinned at him. “I was giving credit where it’s due. Honest.”

Which made Michael’s ears go from pink to red, and a bit of a blush was put in his cheeks. Focusing on Algebra was really hard after that.

;;

Mia finally getting home from her princess lesson was a sign to her mother to have a bit more of a discussion about the wedding – was Mia actually really okay with Frank moving in, and that Helen was having this baby? She knew how stressed-out about stuff Mia could get, and she knew this was a big upheaval, and she wanted Mia to know that if Mia did have a problem, all she had to do was say something, and everything could be immediately shelved until Mia was more comfortable.

“God, Mum, no! I’m totally fine with Frank!” And she was – she liked Frank. Nothing massive, but she did. He was a good guy. Her mum deserved a good guy. Although . . . “I’m glad Frank’s moving in – I mean, do you really want to move to Brooklyn with him? But . . can we just dress like normal people for the wedding? Just because I don’t think we’ll find an Empire State costume for me on such sort notice.”

Which made Helen laugh and give Mia a hug, as well as agree that costumes for their wedding was a bit much. Something Frank thanked Mia for, when he came over for dinner, as well as big some of his stuff over. Apparently, he wasn’t really jazzed at dressing like Fay Wray for his wedding.

;;

But other than that, her week was oddly calm – school in the day, Algebra tutoring by her soon-step-dad after, princess lessons after that. Her mother booked the ceremony for noon on Saturday, so that they could go for lunch after, and Mia could go to the midnight showing of Rocky Horror with her friends, and Frank got his hands on the necessary papers to make it all legal.

Mia did broach that maybe her mother should mention her impending marriage and baby to her family in Indiana, because Frank had told his parents about it, and they were going to come into the city from Long Island for the ceremony on Saturday, but her mother abjectly refused. Mostly because her mother really did not like her family – at ALL. Mia was fourteen, and she’d gone to visit her mother’s family all of _twice_ in her life. Last time, she’d been about ten, and her cousin Hank had been recently dropped off at the Thermopalis homestead a year before by his globe-trotting mother, Marie, her mother’s sister, with whom she hadn’t spoken to in person for about a decade, primarily because, in Helen’s words, Marie exists in an intellectual and spiritual vacuum.

Marie is a Republican, is Helen’s problem.

Of course, this was also Helen’s beef with her parents, because she’d never forgiven them for a) voting for George Bush Sr. and his son, b) refusing to support her decision to have Mia, c) or the way Helen was raising her, and d) being disdainful of Helen’s whole career path, despite how lucrative and happy it had made Helen in the last decade.

So Mia wasn’t too surprised her mother didn’t want her parents coming to New York. Of course, Mia wasn’t suggesting they _come_ to the city – they hated any city, because of what they called _furriners_, meaning foreigners - just that they _know_ what was happening. But Mia also refused to make the call when Helen suggested it, so apparently they’d learn when Helen sent a customary Christmas card to them and mentioned it in the post-script of the card or something.

Frank, however, moved in fully by Thursday, bringing with him a drum kit, a pinball machine and a foozball table – which he and Mia played nine games straight almost immediately after they were done unpacking. Mia still had to practice a little calling him by his first name, because she was supposed to call him Frank in the house but by his title in school – so her mother took bets for how quickly Mia would fail at that. The long guess was it would be two weeks before Mia started calling him by his name in class and just never stopped.

;;

Saturday eventually rolled around, bringing with it a weird sense of tension for Mia. But still, after breakfast and a few hours of loafing around the loft, she, her mother and Frank all pulled on some nice clothes – her mother in one of her favourite dresses, Frank in a pretty nice suit, Mia wedged into one of the few designer dresses Grandmere had bought her that she actually sorta-liked – and Lars brought around a car, taking them to the City Hall, where they met Frank’s mother and father, who had spent two hours locked on the Long Island freeway – because apparently the word ‘freeway’ is shorthand for ‘bumper-to-bumper traffic all hours of the day’ – when Philipe walked in the door!

“Dad?” Mia was incredulous. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Philipe greeted her with a kiss to the forehead, and shook Frank’s hand. “I’m witnessing a wedding, Mia. What else?”

Mia swung her head back and forth between her parents. “Mum, when did you tell him?”

Helen smiled, “I called him Sunday and asked him to come to the wedding. It felt like the right thing.”

Okay, fine, that made – wait. “Wait, does _Grandmere_ know?”

That got a laugh from both her parents, which also broke some of the tension that had still lingered from the arrival of Mr and Mrs Gianini.

“God, no, honey,” said her mother. “Can you imagine if Clarisse knew? She would’ve spent this last week probably plotting some cock-a-mamie wedding at the Plaza or something, and Frank and I would’ve just eloped to Mexico to get away from it all!”

Which was a fair depiction of what probably would’ve happened.

However, the hypotheticals of Grandmere having found out about the wedding beforehand had to be put on the Never Think About This Again mental shelf for Mia, because their number was up.

The ceremony was short, sweet, and her mother was weirdly romantic in her wedding vows – something Mia decided to attribute entirely to pregnancy hormones, otherwise she’d probably never be able to look at her mother the same again. Frank even got a little teary-eyed, and his mother got a lot more than that. Mia herself definitely wasn’t immune. She held her dad’s hand through it all, and he gave her a little squeeze when the justice of the peace declared Frank and Helen married, and when they kissed and everyone gave a little cheer, Mia felt . . . well, she felt that her mum was making a good call.

Not the not-having-a-kid-out-of-wedlock, but marrying Frank. Mia just got the sense that – that he’d be good for her. Good for their little family, separate from the royalty aspects of it. It made her smile just a little wider.

;;

But it **was** Halloween, and Mia had one plan for the night: Rocky Horror Picture Show, as tradition required. HOWEVER, a problem: to attend Rocky Horror, a costume is required for the Halloween screening. Which – Mia hasn’t thought about it, all right? She’s been Busy this past . . . year.

So, now she’s glaring at her closet, trying to find something that she can pass off as a Halloween costume – does she dig out that one green dress and some fairy wings and say she’s Tinkerbell? LAME. Does she dig out her orange sweater and her orange skirt and the Gucci loafer Grandmere bought her and be Velma from Scooby-Doo? . . . Maybe?

Because she really doesn’t want to dig out last year’s costume of ‘Princess’ – yes, she did that. It was an irony thing, and yes, how the tables have turned on her – she wants to be something other than what she is.

You know what? Yesterday she was watching a bunch of Original Series reruns of Star Trek, and it’s reawakened her love for Nurse Chapel. Yeah, she’s going to get some snotty comments from Lilly probably – the Original Series is hardly the cutting edge of television these days – but Mia just doesn’t care. She does not care. (She’s going to tell herself that until she actually believes it.)

So, out of the closet come the blue dress with the black neckline that’s weirdly similar to the women’s uniforms on Star Trek (there’s nothing ‘weird similar’ about it. She’d looked at the dress and thought ‘That’s a Star Trek uniform’ and bought the thing), and her recent growth spurt (up, not out, because of course not) has made the thing close to a minidress, but whatever. She digs out the old Star Trek insignia pin she got at a comic book store a couple years ago, slaps that thing on the dress, pulls on a pair of her black-sheer tights and – she wants to wear her Doc Martens, she really does, but instead she digs out these black boots from Chanel that Grandmere bought her, because somehow despite her protestations that she’d never ever wear the clothes Grandmere bought her, she’s wearing them more and more.

Well – as long as she’s not wearing them _in front_ of Grandmere, Mia’s going to count it as a victory for herself.

But she’s looking herself in the mirror and – huh. Mia’s not good at seeing the upsides of her own appearance: her mouth is too big, her skin too pasty unless she burns it over the summer, she’s really very skinny with no breasts to speak of, and she’s one of the tallest people in her year level. Yes, even over the boys. And her ‘makeover’ from Grandmere didn’t really make her very happy with her hair either – it used to be this mid-brown/blonde colour, and it could never decide if it was going to be wavy-curly or wavy-straight after she got out of the shower, and then Paolo hacked it all off and coloured it blonde, which, for tonight’s purposes is a benefit, because she’s closer to looking like Nurse Chapel than she would otherwise; but looking in the mirror now . . . she doesn’t look half bad.

She’d almost say she’s approaching pretty.

Her mum and Frank were slouched on the sofa with some old movie playing – it had Clarke Gable on screen, anyway – when Mia went out the door. She was the one to collect everyone, what with Hans behind the limo wheel, so they hit up all her friends’ places – Tina first, with Wahim, her bodyguard, as well, Tina looking awesome with her butter-yellow hijab and pink dress as Sleeping Beauty (and she and Mia agreed to pass Lars and Wahim off as the Men In Black); Ling Su as Sailor Moon and Shameeka as Blossom from the PowerPuff Girls; Lilly and Boris joined last (Mia tried not to be put out that Michael wouldn’t be joining them until the actual show, because apparently the Computer Club had a group costume happening), Boris using his violin case as a prop to be Al Capone, notorious gangster. Lilly had the costume that probably required the most explanation, but Mia wished she’d been as clever – a Freudian Slip, literally. Lilly was wearing a sleeping nightie with a big fluffy beard that went all down her front.

They were probably a very motley crew of characters, but Mia was honestly having a bunch of fun, even before they got to the theatre.

Lilly was the one to catch sight of the Computer Club first – although the giant sign saying LOOKING FOR PRIVATE RYAN and the fake blown-off limbs and guts spilling out of jackets definitely caught most passers-by’s attention.

So the whole group made it into the cinema, and somehow Lars got pushed into the seat behind her, which Mia imagined her wasn’t thrilled about, but Mia was sitting next to Michael, so she honestly wasn’t going to say anything. On her other side was a girl from the Computer Club, Judith, dressed as another member of the blood-soaked platoon, with a sarcastic sense of humour and a way of looking at Michael that made Mia feel even stupider trying to talk to him than she already did, looking out of place in her minidress and boots, between two dead soldiers.

Still, Rocky Horror was very fun. Everybody just acts like a lunatic. People throw bread at the screen, and put up umbrellas when it rained in the movie, and dancing the Pelvic Thrust. Honestly, its some of the best cinema experience you can get.

Mia felt awkward between two of the smartest people in AEHS, but she got to laugh and see Michael looking over at her to see her laughing with him, while also being – maybe, just the tiniest bit – cuddled close in the dark cinema.

And then afterwards, literally the whole group went to a 24 hour pancake place for a very early breakfast, and while Lars looked ready to tap out – Wahim too, actually – ordering cup of coffee after cup of coffee, Mia ended up wedged in between Michael and Kenny, her biology partner. Everyone at the table was loud and having fun, and Kenny tapped Mia on the shoulder and asked “Had any weird mail lately?” with a sort of chagrined look.

Oh. Oh dear. _Kenny was JoCRox_. And Mia’d told him to either be honest or don’t bother.

Oh dear. Mia winced, saying “Yeah.”

Kenny smiled in a sort of pained-but-accepting manner. “Guess you weren’t very interested huh?”

“What?”

Kenny kind of stammered, “I was – I was trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, Mia.” He sounded sad.

God, what do you say to that?? “Oh, uh. That’s very sweet of you, Kenny, really. It’s –“ what, what do you say??? “It’s really flattering you like me like that. But –“ quick, what’s an excuse that’s believable?? Come on Mia, you’re a pathological liar!!

“But, really, I’m not looking for anything other than friendship with anyone right now.” Big fat lie, but okay. “Like, it’s just – my life is really messy right now, and I’m trying to find a middle ground for it all-“

Kenny interjected, “Yeah. I bet.” He didn’t sound upset, per sey, just resigned. Mia decided to stop making up excuses.

“I’m sorry.”

Kenny shrugged and smiled. “It’s okay. I get it. Just gotta put yourself out there, you know?”

Mia grinned at him. “All you can do, right?”

At which point, someone climbing back in between the crammed-together seats at the table just jostled everyone, and Michael looked over from his conversation with Judith and saw the way Mia and Kenny were smiling, and he whipped his head over to Lars, really fast. Almost like . . Mia wasn’t sure. Like Michael saw something in the conversation – that probably wasn’t what it was – and wanted Lars to do something.

But Lars was stirring sugar into his sixth coffee in three hours, and didn’t look up. So Michael instead said, kinda loudly, “Well, I’m beat. Anyone else ready to call it a night?”

Which got him some kinda weird looks – some people were still eating – and Lilly went, “Gotta catch up on your beauty sleep, Michael?”

Michael rolled his eyes, but stood up to pay for his food. Mia, thankful for the reprieve from her conversation with Kenny, did the same for her food, along with Lars’ coffees, and offered anyone a lift home in her limo to anyone leaving at the same time.

Which of course meant everyone suddenly realised how tired they were and how much they’d love a lift home, Mia, especially if it’s in a limousine, gosh, of course.

;;

So, despite the messy beginning of the week, it ended pretty well.

Sure, she began convinced she’d humiliated herself on national television, but she’d ended it with: a stepdad with a pinball machine and a knack for Algebra, the forthcoming baby brother or sister, and a compliment from Michael!

Yes, really! Because he and Lilly were the last to be dropped off after pancakes, and Lilly got out of the limo first, so she wasn’t there to see Michael turn to Mia and say, all nicely, “You know, you look . . . really good, like Nurse Chapel.” And he gave this sort of dorky smile, and his face was a little pink, and Mia could feel herself blush too.

And it’s not much, but still! It’s a compliment! From the boy she likes!

And the only other time she can remember getting something like that is from Nick – sure, he seems to have made a habit out of saying nice things to her, but Nick’s in Genovia! Michael’s _here_! Yeah, he’s completely out of her league and her friend’s older brother, but he’s _here_.

Look, it doesn’t matter. Mia’s in a good space for herself. She’s _happy_.

Halloween should be re-advertised as the _BEST_ time of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a couple things: this was weirdly hard for me to get off the ground, mostly because I don’t like the second book very much – which, if you’ve read this and the book, you can probably tell. So I’ve cut several plot lines and events – in the book, Mia spills a bunch of beans during the interview, including her mother’s pregnancy, and Grandmere plots a wedding; Helen’s family comes to the city, and there’s this whole thing about Lilly sneaking away with Mia’s cousin Hank to help him become a model without telling anyone and upsetting a bunch of people, including Lilly’s own boyfriend.
> 
> Also, the main thing, is that Kenny sends Mia a bunch of anonymous emails and then asks her out at Halloween, which she accepts. This leads to Book 3 being half about how Mia wants to break up with him, because she’s into Michael, but also doesn’t want to, because otherwise she’d A) hurt his feelings, and B) have no boyfriend to go to a dance with. That was her reasoning.
> 
> Which is something I never liked about book 3, or as a plot in general – yeah, unrequited feelings hurt, but being strung along hurts just as bad. Better to cut it all loose.
> 
> Also because books 3 and 4 are where I’m doing even more canon divergence, with some more Nick (yeah, I know he wasn’t really in this one, sorry), and also spilling over from what Mia doesn’t talk about in her journal, so I wanted to have as clean a slate as possible to work with.


End file.
